Now that the dust has settled after Justin Bieber's arrest, AskMen editor Peter Hoare has some tough love advice for the pop star on how to step up his game in both his personal and professional life.
Unless you've been pinned under a rock for the past week or so, you're likely aware that Justin Bieber done did it again. Last week, young Justin, the young man who legions of Beliebers call their fearless leader, was arrested in Miami for drag racing a bright yellow and obnoxiously ostentatious Lamborghini. And what, pray tell, was Mr. Bieber under the influence of while he was doing his best Vin Diesel impression? By his own admission, he was drinking, had smoked weed and took some "prescription medication."
Let's recap, shall we? Justin was WASTED and DRAG RACING a YELLOW LAMBORGHINI in MIAMI! Was he attempting to break the world's record for the douchiest arrest report in history? Seriously. That's the legal equivalent of a sparkly Ed Hardy T-shirt. That's the Entourage movie of crimes.
Justin, Biebs, let's chat. It's tough love time.
Dear Justin Bieber,
You currently have a cool factor of zero. Nada. Goose egg. Is this disappointing fact a hard pill to swallow? No. I'm more or less certain it isn't. Who am I, after all? I'm an internet columnist from Long Island. You can easily buy and sell me 10 times over. However, I know cool, pal. And Justin, as of right now, you sure as sh*t ain't cool.
Regularly performing shirtless with a super rad shiny gold glove? Uncool.
Having your bodyguards carry you over the Great Wall of China? Uncool.
Peeing into a restaurant's mop bucket while saying "F*ck Bill Clinton"? Uncool.
Claiming Anne Frank would have been a Belieber? Both moronic and uncool.
And it's not entirely your fault. I'll allow you to share a portion of the blame. You're likely eternally surrounded by a small army of ass-kissing, glad-handing yes men. I'm assuming these are all people who are paid, handsomely, by you, to blindly support every awful decision you make.
Stop that. Now. That accomplishes nothing. That'd be like if I only shared this column with my mom, who would inevitably call me a literary genius and then offer to make me a bologna sandwich.
How about this for starters, Biebs? May I suggest you start spending a little less time with your live-in, egg throwing pal Lil Za, the Kato Kaelin to your O.J. Simpson? Jesus Christ. Justin, I personally resent you for making me know who Lil Za even is. The only time it's acceptable for someone to say the words "Lil Za" is when referring to a smaller-than-average pizza, and, even then, it's still pretty damn uncool.
And you also got in trouble with Lil Scrappy. How about no "Lils" for a while? What's the matter? You don't know any cool guys named Gary or Steve?
Right now, you're a teen idol, not a full-fledged adult pop star. In terms of Britney Spears, you're a girl, not yet a woman. Some may argue that point, but I'll gladly stand my ground. Your most passionate, vocal fan base is largely composed of teens and tweens. Want proof? They proudly refer to themselves as "Beliebers." No adult with a modicum of intelligence and a shred of self-respect would label themselves with such a ridiculous moniker. Kendrick Lamar fans don't call themselves "Kdotters." Arcade Fire fans don't nonsensically tweet "#ArcaderFlamers4Life."
But, Justin, herein is where the problem lies. These fans are all growing up. They're rapidly maturing. And as these fans gracefully shift from watching TeenNick on Mom's couch to DVRing FX in their own apartments, they may leave you behind. Your goal should be for 15-year-olds who dig you now to become 23-year-olds who still dig you in eight years. You need to consciously think about longevity. You should be working toward retaining your devoted fan base for decades to come. If you stay your current course, that simply ain't gonna happen.
You want your fans to grow up with you. But if you yourself don't grow up, what happens?
Bye bye, Beliebers.
How do you avoid this? Simple. By growing the f*ck up. Your sound. Your look. Your lyrics. Your actions. Grow. The. F*ck. Up.
See: Justin Timberlake.
You're too old to be taking rapid-fire, shirtless selfies, dummy. And quit it with doing that little dance where you make the heart symbol. You know what that accomplishes? It makes you a walking, talking, living, breathing punchline. A universally mocked celebrity. And if you're of the opinion that any press is good press, you're wrong. A certain amount of mockery is actually a positive to a degree. Being portrayed by an SNL cast member can be a point of pride. It means, in terms of the current pop culture lexicon, you're relevant.
But when you're exclusively mocked, then you run the risk of eventually becoming irrelevant. Sure, it's not gonna happen tomorrow. It isn't gonna happen next week. It likely won't even happen next year. But five years from now? As it stands right now, that's a definite possibility.
Read this. Think about it. Let it soak in. But then, I implore you, implement some of what I say. You'll thank me a decade from now.
And if you're ever in Long Island, may I suggest swinging by my mom's place for a killer bologna sandwich.
Pete "Lil P" Hoare
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